All New Series
by anouk zucker
Summary: Mpreg-Series. H/W slash, NC-17, "Lawrence 'verse", contains "All New" 1 "Cravings" 2 "Beautiful Morning" 3 "Beautiful Day" 4 "Sledding" 5 and all the following installments. Jumps within the timeline.
1. All New

Title: All New

Author: julefontane/~anouk zucker

Pairing: House/Wilson

Characters: House, Wilson, Chase

Words: ~1,250

Rating: R for adult concepts, to be safe

Warnings: AU, means here: mpreg (male pregnancy) and male lactation.

If the idea of male pregnancy in fiction doesn't suit you, leave it, do not read this story, go directly (or straight, hehe) to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200! Please, do yourself the favor. All others: proceed.

Summary: Little ficlet about nursing and names.

Excerpt: "The first little sounds of distress can be heard because the last feeding was so long ago in infant universe, he can't even remember how to get to the sweet tasting substance that makes warm and full and sleepy."

A/N: I'm intrigued by the idea of male pregnancy. The characters dealing with their new condition, this alien thing happening to them, their changed bodies and alternated gender roles within their relationships with (a) partner/s, and in society is fascinating. And I like House pregnant and nursing. I know he wouldn't like me for that;))

Background for this story: I like to think that House, here, always had two sexes, meaning both, fully functioning male and female reproductive parts. He has ovaries, a womb and a birth canal which forms an opening in his perineum (I don't have a name for it, yet); he does not have a menstrual cycle. He managed to keep this hidden; only his parents knew, which strained the relationship with his dad; and maybe someone in college found out; and Stacy knew, the only partner he lived with for a longer period of time. And now for something completely different:

**All New**

House sits in the rocking chair, the baby in his arms, his son.

He's twelve hours old now. He's got his father's ice blue eyes and a downy dark brown tuft.

House smiles slowly at the unproductive abrupt movements of tiny fists, the still unfocused eyes looking around. The first little sounds of distress can be heard because the last feeding was so long ago in infant universe, he can't even remember how to get to the sweet tasting substance that makes warm and full and sleepy. House coos and shushes him. Time for the fifth round of feeding.

He holds the baby with one arm and places the soft white pillow in his lap for support. He leans back to open his shirt one-handed, his fingers flicking open two more buttons and he pushes it down over his right shoulder, out of the way to expose one side of his chest. It's slightly more swollen, the nipples standing out. The baby starts to crow urgently, sensing and smelling the proximity of his father's milk, patience an unknown concept. House shushes him again, carefully positioning him in his arm and on the pillow, bringing him close to his nipple to let him nuzzle and lick until he latches onto it on his own and begins to suckle, making some little urgent sounds. House sucks in a breath, the strange tugging feeling of the nursing still unfamiliar. He makes himself relax and watches his small son suckle. Three tiny sucks, one swallow, and repeat; the breathing through his little nose harsh and quick with the effort.

He still can't fully grasp that this is his baby; he made him. Well, with Wilson's help. And the making had been quite enjoyable; the carrying around in his belly, the fussing of everyone around him, the repulsive reactions from strangers, Cuddy's fainting when she heard of it, the strenuous birth; all this had been less fun, although, Cuddy fainting and acting all upset and betrayed had been a treat, really. As if the two of them ever had had a chance of making a baby together. Obviously and ironically House was the highly fertile one – getting pregnant after one night, without even trying. Poor Cuddy had to find out that they weren't merely fertilizing each other intellectually and figuratively, nay, they also did it literally and very effectively. Well, Wilson did the inseminating; House's hermaphroditic sex provided the fertile grounds.

He shifts carefully to change sides. Still sore from releasing a four pound bundle into the world through an orifice frequently used only in the last few months, every movement still caused him discomfort; Wilson had bought him one of those "donut-pillows" which actually helps a little. To release the suction on his nipple he slips his pinkie in the corner of the baby's mouth, then slides his shirt down his left shoulder and cradles him in his other arm, letting him find the nipple and begin the nursing again. He leans back when he's sure the baby is latched on properly and looks out the window of his room. It's quiet, but there have been faint noises coming from the loft's kitchen for the last five minutes. Wilson and Chase must have started dinner. Chase had been there during birth, delivering the baby. House had called him and Wilson numerous unmentionable names in the process and if he had have the strength would have kicked them both for being so damn annoyingly caring; he had actually screamed at Chase to kill Wilson should he ever want to come near him again. He isn't so sure anymore now. Those crazy hormones really did their job. After only twelve hours they begin to fog his mind, make him forget the excruciating, incomparable pain – maybe the leg was an exception – he'd felt and make him think this was all a fantastic idea – why not do it again? The reward was this thing in his arms making him all soft and gooey, making everyone soft and gooey, and hopeful and joyous.

He looks down at his son again, his sucking becoming gentler, slower, until his soft little mouth slides off and he falls asleep. The door to his room opens quietly behind him and he cranes his neck to see Chase tip toeing in, smiling a little and putting down a cup of coffee on the nightstand. "Chase," House whispers and beckons him over. Chase takes the baby from his arms so House can get up. He very gently lays him into the crib and puts the small baby blanket over him that Blythe had sent them. House stands beside him, wiping his chest with a wet cloth and buttoning his shirt. He bathes Chase in a cloud of new born and lactation scent, which is kind of intoxicating and makes Chase inhale involuntarily. He looks down at House's shirt, his nipples clearly visible. He opens his mouth to say something and looks up to meet House's scowl. His eyes go round and he lifts both hands, palms out, whispering urgently, "I was just going to ask you if you need anything for soreness! I think I've seen more than enough in the delivery room!"

House enjoys the effect he still has on Chase. He pulls his best bewildered face, watching Chase wince, thrust his arm out and take a deep breath for another apology. Then realization seems to hit him. House looks at him with raised eyebrows.

"OK, do you always have to do this?"

"Ha, I knew you weren't comfortable!"

"I am! But not when you pretend I'm ogling you or anything."

"You were sniffing me." House looks at him with narrowed eyes. Chase gives him a speculative look, pursing his lips.

"You smell good. – Which doesn't mean anything!" House's mouth twitches in a smile, then he sighs and drops his head.

"I sure smell like a dairy farm. Come on, I don't want junior to wake up ahead of time." House leans down to look at his baby again and tugs the blanket in around him a little. His eyes are firmly closed in deep, oblivious sleep, the little pink mouth slack, his chest raising and falling steadily. House lays two long fingers on his son's chest delicately stroking before eventually turning away. They leave the door ajar, quietly making their way to the open kitchen.

Wilson is filling bowls with steaming hot, hearty chicken soup and sets them down on the counter. He smiles at House, grabs him and kisses him on the mouth, pressing his nose to his cheek.

"Mmm, you smell good." House rolls his eyes. "Eat. I want to take a look at junior – we definitely need to find a 'first' first name, soon." Wilson starts to walk away.

"Already got one." Wilson turns, surprised.

"OK. What do you want to name him?" House looks at him, calm and serious. He takes a deep breath.

"Lawrence. I think it's a good name." Chase and Wilson look at him at the mention of Kutner's first name, wide-eyed; Wilson then exhales noisily and puts his hands on his hips. He pinches his lips together in a Wilson-y smile, close-mouthed and accepting; and he nods, raising his eyebrows.

"I guess it is. – Fine, let's name him Lawrence." Looking into his eyes he touches House's neck and strokes his thump along his jaw tenderly; then he goes to look at their child.

Lawrence Daniel House – a powerful name.

END


	2. Cravings

Title: Cravings

Author: julefontane/~anouk zucker

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: NC-17 for adult concepts and smut

Warnings: AU, means here: mpreg (male pregnancy) and male lactation.

If the idea of male pregnancy in fiction doesn't suit you, leave it, do not read this story, go directly (or straight, hehe) to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200! Please, do yourself the favor. All others: proceed.

Summary: Cravings during pregnancy…

Excerpt: "Everything is strewn around him like a halo. It's not the first time House has been hiding here from Wilson, slaking his cravings."

A/N: Good to know! Background for this story: I like to think that House, here, always had two sexes, meaning both, fully functioning male and female reproductive parts. He has ovaries, a womb and a birth canal which forms an opening in his perineum (I don't have a name for it, yet); he does not have a menstrual cycle. He managed to keep this hidden; only his parents knew, which strained the relationship with his dad; and maybe someone in college found out; and Stacy knew, the only partner he lived with for a longer period of time. Since Mayfield he's toxin free and able to conceive. One night with Wilson after they moved in together was enough for him to get pregnant. Here, Male pregnancy is not as long as female; House's baby grows four pounds in six month, average is three pounds. This is set before "All New", therefore can be read before, after or not at all. About hamlet fishes, among others: Behavior – Animal Attraction .com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,993156, And now for something completely different:

**Cravings**

Wilson closes the door to the loft with his butt and throws the keys on the small antique table in the foyer.

"House?" He listens, then puts the groceries on the kitchen counter and the ice cream in the freezer. His coat and jacket get thrown on the back of the sofa. He slips out of his narrow Italian shoes, wriggling his toes. Comfortable at last. They have been living together now for four month, and House has been pregnant for most of the time. He still gets this unreal feeling whenever he thinks about it. House pregnant. He has always attracted both sexes, though his partners have been women in the past. Wilson knows something happened in House's college time that made him give up on men, but he's never got it out of him, yet.

"House, I'm home! Where are you?" He listens again, then looks inside House's room. It was deserted, medical journals strewn all over the floor. He passes the first bathroom and their bedroom – no House. He frowns. Then he sets out into the more remote 'chambers' and meanders through the loft. Eventually he discovers House in the spare bedroom with the queen sized bed, bookshelves and, most importantly, a small TV set. House is fast asleep on top of the comforter, and the TV is telling Wilson that the black hamlet is the rare vertebrate that has both sexes at once and that two mates change sex roles several times during the mating ritual. Wilson fishes for the remote and turns it off. Apparently, House has eaten his way through a bag of chips, several chocolate bars and some Twizzlers. An empty bowl with the remains of cloggy cereals is resting in the middle of the bed and a half empty bucket of melting ice cream leaning against it.

Everything is strewn around him like a halo. It's not the first time House has been hiding here from Wilson, slaking his cravings; stuffing himself with the most greasy, sugary, spicy food he can find, watching TV, or rather watching porn, Wilson suspects, because the bed is so convenient and some of House's porn stash is in one of the cupboards. And House is constantly horny now. He smiles at that; not a bad thing all together.

House has changed into his pajamas and a shirt for his afternoon nap to be more comfortable. He's far along the pregnancy and his too tight t-shirt is riding up over his swollen belly. He's lying on his side, one long leg stretched out, one bend. Wilson is overcome with longing at the sight of sleepy, cozy, warm House, although he sees him everyday. It's his peaceful expression, the life growing inside him, nestled securely inside him, their little child. House had never wanted kids, except he did, under the right circumstances.

Well, this pregnancy certainly wasn't planned and no one had expected it to happen. Now that it's done, it's a good feeling mixed with a small portion of fear. Were they ready, will everything be alright, will they be able to handle everything? It's exciting and new and scary, but it's too late to turn back. House told him once that this feeling of things rolling on unstoppable like an avalanche, unavoidable, and not being able to say, 'ok, I've had enough of this, I don't want this anymore, trial over', is scaring him the most. No escape, this thing in him grows and will want to come out eventually. And he dreaded birth, the pain, the immense stamina he'll need to go through with it.

House stirs and makes a distressed noise. Wilson leans forward and feels his belly. And there it is, the small tapping, the baby kicking, their baby. Before he can stop himself he kisses House impulsively, clenching his teeth against the onslaught of possessive feelings and heavy arousal. House whimpers a little, lifting an uncoordinated hand, finding Wilson's tie and pulling. Wilson slides his hand from House's belly to his back and dips it into his pajama bottoms, wanting to feel House, touch him right where he wants to put his penis next. He slides his fingers inside House's warm, soft, slick opening, hearing a small moan and gasp at the intrusion, one leg shifting a fraction, House's pelvis tipping back, his back arching, opening him up for Wilson, ready to receive him, reacting to his bold request. The next shock of arousal shoots down Wilson's body and stabs his groin with new intensity, almost too much, he already sees himself sliding in, pumping. "House" he spits out, needy, voice breaking. Heavy-lidded blue eyes, surprise and arousal making them dilate, look at him, mouth open and panting, lips shiny. Breathing heavily, moaning on every exhale he yanks off House's pants, opens his own, butchering the zipper in the process, getting in bed behind House, positioning himself and driving in as if their lives depend on it. And, ironically, on an evolutionary basis it does. They both cry out at the heady, dizzying, incomparable feeling of it, the slick, hot joining, every molecule in their bodies screaming at them to proceed, that this is the right place to go. Wilson drives in again, sinking in deeper, establishing hefty, firm thrusts. House's body arches into him, taking him in, engulfing him, their fluids mingling, the sweet friction producing ever more lubricant, the slippery feeling incredible. Wilson lays his mouth against the corner of House's, wanting to be so impossibly close to him, listening to his harsh breathing. He winds both arms around him. He slides House's shirt up under his arms and roams his hands all over him, stroking the beautiful, huge belly, House's hard penis and silky balls and back up to his subtly swollen chest, cupping him there kneading carefully. House yields to his every touch and push, soft and perfect, moaning voluptuously as Wilson hooks his hand under House's knee and lifts it to spread him wider, to thrust deeply, moving his cock around inside him. When he feels House nearing his climax he lets his thrusts become fast and shallow and lays a hand on his belly. He looks at the side of House's face, sees it when the waves hit him, his eyes snapping open as if in shock, his slack, panting mouth opening wider, helpless, rhythmic, raspy moans pressed out, his eyes rolling back and closing, reopening again. Wilson feels him squeeze around him, his belly going taut, his dick spurting pearly dollops of come on it. Wilson pumps one, two, three more times into the slick, still contracting heat until the essence in his body and mind seems to light up white hot and he helplessly holds onto his lover, jerking, sobbing at the waves of intense pleasure that run through him.

They lie together, breathing slow and deep, almost as if nothing's happened. Wilson has undressed completely, wanting to feel House, no barriers. He delicately lets his hand slide over all of House, feeling his warmth, the slightly sweaty skin. He marvels at the softness there. He never had had rough skin to begin with and for a man his bodily hair is rather sparse, but since the early days of pregnancy his skin has become softer, smoother, deft, and the glow isn't a cliché. There is an open quality to it, inviting to be touched and stroked, smelled and tasted. Something sweet and precious and unique lying underneath, something of them both. He shudders at the thought, never has he wanted to be closer to House or to anyone before in his life. He chuckles, those hormones really do their job pretty well. House slowly turns his head, peering at him, then goes slack again. He must really be exhausted – and content; otherwise he would have taken the chuckle the wrong way and risen to the bait. Wilson feels a warm glow; it is rare that House isn't feeling combative enough to snark. House's soft, slightly hoarse and slurry voice almost dribbled into the silence of the room.

"Why're you home early? I'm a mess." He sighs and snuggles deeper into the pillow.

"You're a mess now, after I debauched you." Wilson smiles at the ceiling, so pleased with his comeback. House makes a 'pfff" sound to show how unimpressed he is, but Wilson can see the line of his cheek from his position and he saw the tiny twitch of a smile.

"I'm home early because a patient canceled her appointment. And because I wanted to be with you. I brought Minestrone and corn bread, and green olives, oh, and ice cream…" at that House sits up suddenly, twisting to look at Wilson, his face showing traces of hunger, surprise and urgent demand. He scrambles to climb over Wilson in order to get to the kitchen but Wilson grabs a slender ankle and holds on.

"Hey! Let go – or I sit on your chest and crush you!" House gives him his best mean stare.

"I thought we could have a bath first and you could give me a back rub, then we'll have a nice TV dinner and watch whatever you want." Wilson let's go of House and leans back, stretching and crossing his ankles, looking nonchalantly.

"No. I call the shots! We have dinner now and everything else… sometime after. I need nutrition right now." He gets up pinching his lips, holding his belly. His leg is acting up under the extra weight sometimes. And he often feels light cramping of the uterus after sex. He looks at Wilson who has sat up, ready to help. House rolls his eyes at him, picking up his pajama bottoms and struggling into them, pulling down the ill-fitting, tight shirt.

"Down boy, I'm fine. After all, you did this to me! If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have to carry around this paunch." He picks up his cane and turns to leave the room.

"Oh, this is typical! You love being waited on and fussed about, House! Admit it!" Wilson gets up and follows House through the interior of the loft, naked, pointing a pointless finger at him. House turns to him while walking, smiling dangerously, eyes wide.

"I admit that _you_ love it more than ever, it's your dream come true, me pregnant, helpless and needy like a … beetle thrown on its back." They reach the kitchen and House fishes a soda out of one of Wilson's bags, opening it and gulping it down. Then he looks defiantly at a bewildered, naked Wilson, arms spread, mouth agape.

"Well, I guess we are both very lucky, then." He says it thoughtful, then a smirk forms on his face. He advances on House, who, suspicious, backs into the counter. He looks at Wilson expectantly. Wilson slides a hand up his belly, feeling it, a stunned look in his eyes for the ten thousands time, quietly musing about how they managed to do this.

"We don't need to have this conversation over and over again, you know. Actually we both win." House raises his eyebrows and steps back a little to drag himself up on the nearby stool, touching his baby belly tenderly. Wilson follows him, standing between his legs.

"Think the baby is happy now, with all the endorphins circling around?" Wilson lays his hand on House's lower belly, stroking lightly.

"I think he's sleeping now. You rocked him to sleep." Now House was smiling at him mischievously, taking in Wilson's slightly smug expression. "Oh, get over yourself! And get dressed. I tivo-ed a documentary about fish. And I'm hungry." He cocks his head as he watches Wilson's retreating… back.

END


	3. Beautiful Morning

**Title: **Beautiful Morning  
**Author:** julefontane/~ anouk zucker  
**Pairing:** House/Wilson  
**Words:** ~ 3000**  
****Rating:** NC-17 for adult concepts and smut**  
****Warnings:** AU, means here: mpreg (male pregnancy) and male lactation. If the idea of male pregnancy in fiction doesn't suit you, leave it, do not read this story, go directly (or straight, hehe) to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200! Please, do yourself the favor. All others: proceed. And: this is **kind of het** because House has two sexes *mind blows*  
**A/N:** This is the promised sequel to All New and Cravings - took a while, busy holidays and friends visiting... There is going to be another sequel to this one when I'm done. Hope you bear with me!

**Beautiful Morning**

House jerks awake. He hears little hiccupping sobs from the next room. Oh crap, he just fell asleep a minute ago! He moans and unglues his heavy eyelids to blink open his eyes and check the alarm clock – 5:15 a.m. Three hours just aren't enough to go through all sleep stages. And the previous nights hadn't been exactly filled with healthy, uninterrupted sleep either. He turns his head groggily to look at Wilson, soundly and blissfully asleep, his arms firmly wrapped around House, snoring lightly and blowing puffs of morning breath into House's face. To top all of these really uncalled-for affections the palm of his left hand is cupping House's genitals. What a lovely picture they make, House thought, crinkling his nose. The sobs do not subside but develop into outright crying and it tugs at House's heart. He sighs and starts to untangle Wilson's clingy tentacles, elbowing him in the ribs in the process. House knows it's his turn tonight to get up when their son demands attention but Wilson should at least know how much House is making an effort, and how often. Wilson grunts at the disturbance and mumbles a sleepy curse.

"'ousss? Whus wrongmm?" he blinks confused into the still darkness of their bedroom on this early February morning. House sits up and fishes for the plaid bath robe. They both sleep naked, it's warmer this way, indeed. He shivers in the cold air of the loft, the heating not on full blast at that time of day, or rather night.

"It's fine, I got it. Go back to sleep." Wilson's arm reaches out and holds him back and, with a surprisingly well coordinated and well aimed, smooth movement, drags himself up and kisses House's neck just below his ear, pressing his morning erection into House's hip.

"Mmmm, 'm not sleepy any more – when you get back I know what we could do!" House avoids Wilson's kissy mouth and winds out of his arms.

"If you're not sleepy, I know what _you_ could do right now, so _I_ can go back to sleep!" Wilson looks a little apologetic at him but doesn't react to that sour tone. They both know it's a rough patch with Lawrence teething again. And Wilson's been the one to get up every three hours the last two nights, standing in for House because he had a case. Sleepless nights, stressful days at work, all adds up to a really irritated parent sometimes.

"How about I fix a bottle in the kitchen?" Wilson offers. House looks a little sheepish at him when he limps out of the room and nods. He fastens his robe and enters the nursery where his small son bawls pitifully in his crib, calming immediately a little at the sight of his father. House speaks to him softly, picking him up, wrapped in his baby blanket and taking him into his arms, cupping the back of his head.

"Hey, shhh, alright, shhhh, oh, it can't be that bad, shshshh." He kisses Lawrie's brow and looks into his face. His left cheek has a red blotch and he feels a little hot. Not a medical mystery. He picks up the gum-salve and applies a little on the place where a new tooth should be showing soon – under protest and more pitiful crying. When Wilson arrives with the bottle with chamomile tea, House has sat down in the rocking chair, a shaken but calm Lawrie on his lap, showing him his stuffed animals, a camel – deemed the Camel Toe – and a nasty rubber tarantula with red eyes. Wilson smiles as he crouches at House's side and hands him the bottle. He strokes Lawrie's poor, blotchy cheek tenderly. Lawrie looks at him with those big, baby blue eyes, still traces of tears in them, lids swollen, his small mouth pouting, his breath still hitching occasionally. But he suddenly smiles, making a little pleased sound and his features lighten, his six gorgeous teeth showing. Wilson's heart swells and he laughs back, just a little chuckle that can't possibly be held back. Lawrie stretches his arm and touches his dad's mouth, inspecting his smile, his teeth, breathing laboredly with the effort, eyes round.

"How can he be so cheerful when he looks at all those large white squares in your mouth? He has only six, way to go, and every single one will hurt just as much! "

Wilson looks into the older, even bigger, but equally baby blue and curious eyes.

"He trusts that he'll get through it. It's sense of basic trust. That's what he's hopefully learnt here. To trust that the world is a benign place and bad experiences get rectified." Wilson importantly lifts his eyebrows, pursing his lips. House looks at him, an amused but belligerent twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course, the world is such a splendid place to live in. All sunshine and puppies in Wilson-land. And by the way, I know what sense of basic trust is! Just because _you_ think I've never had it…"

"_I_ don't think that. You may have some trust issues but you have a sense of basic trust, House. And yes, I like to think that our little world here, Lawrie's world, is a good place to live in."

"O.K. you can go back to sleep now, it's way too early for this kind of conversation." House cradles Lawrie in his right arm and gives him the baby bottle to suckle on. Wilson smiles and gets on his feet. He bends down to kiss Lawrie's brow and then puts his lips to House's, nuzzling a little, whispering.

"I'll go back to bed, warming it for you! We still got an hour left before I got to get up. Maybe he actually falls asleep again." He delicately caresses Lawrie's brow and watches his drooping eyelids, his little mouth drinking from the bottle, one hand lightly and convulsively pinching House's chest. He still remembers his first food source; House had just stopped breastfeeding two weeks ago and had been more than pleased – after eight months his nipples were his again and he could eat and drink everything he wanted for the first time in over a year. That also meant that they had to establish using birth control which had not been necessary until then. The hormones in House's body no longer prevent a new pregnancy and they haven't really talked about any more children. Wilson is almost certain House is through with it. He wishes he wasn't. When he looks at their baby, the perfect little hands and feet, the lovely face with the Houseian eyes and nose and Wilsonian cheekbones he can't help but want another one, a girl maybe. And when he looks at House holding their child in his arms, and imagines his belly grow round again he wants yet another one, maybe. He straightens and stretches, yawning hugely, and when he leaves the nursery he turns back to catch House looking at him.

"I'll be there in a minute." House whispers, smirking slightly. Then he watches Lawrie slowly fall asleep.

When House enters their bedroom, Wilson is sprawled out over both halves of the bed, a little tin foil packet between his fingers, wearing nothing but a smoldering look. House snorts.

"Oh god, this isn't going to work!" He stops at the foot of the bed. Wilson smiles and turns the bedside lamps off, then crawls over to House.

"Oh it will, in a second." He kneels before House, his breathing quickening as he parts the robe, laying his hands on House's waist, delicately circling his navel with his thumbs, tracing the thin trail of hair leading down to his dual sex. House sighs as Wilson lets his fingers ghost over his chest, brushing one nipple again and again with feather-light touches, while the fingers of his other hand sink into the curls of his pubic hair, gently pressing his palm to his almost soft penis, feeling him. He brings his hands back to House's waist, kneading his sides, then roaming up to his shoulders, nuzzling his chest, the faint smell of lactation still detectable. In a swift move Wilson brushes the garment off his shoulders and pulls him down onto the bed. He gently guides him to lie on his back and softly spreads his legs to kneel between them. When he leans down to brush House's lips he hears and feels him inhale shakily. And when he lowers his hips to touch his hard penis to House's slowly filling one they both groan and House writhes beneath him, seeking more friction, one leg sliding over Wilson's hip, a knee touching Wilson's armpit. Wilson can feel House tip his pelvis, rounding his back already, so the tip of his penis, almost of its own accord, slips over House's balls to his perineum, to this incredibly silky and slick opening that yields when he presses inside. He hears House gasp as he enters him fully, hears his own harsh breathing, groaning at the first sharp thrust, the hot tightness dizzying. They fit perfectly, moving together, meeting, parting, meeting again, the waves rushing through their bodies building ever higher, their voices overlapping, mingling, echoing each other, sweet, insane, intoxicating lust for one another. Not enough. Wilson pauses, grunting harshly as he slides House's legs over his shoulders and leans into the next deep thrust, House crying out, bruising the skin on Wilson's upper arms as he holds onto him. Coming, coming, oh, Wilson can see them both coming together, him filling House, making a mess inside him –

"Wlsn, uh – uh – Wlsn! Uh – stop – ah – condom – " Hearing House moan and say his name was a huge turn-on, but the word condom made Wilson groan and clench his teeth, the concentration and bodily effort to not just spill inside House, as he's done for the last year, almost too painful. He manages to tip back his hips and pull his pulsating penis out of the hot, engulfing slickness before his orgasm hits him and he helplessly jerks himself two times to then bathe House's sex in his semen, pumping, groaning. They stare at each other, wide-eyed, panting.

"S- 'm sorry! That was – close..." He bites his lip against the aftershocks running through him, his penis still hard and dripping on House, nudging between his folds when he shifts. A second longer and there would possibly have been another decision to be made – another baby? House's sharp tone startles him.

"Yeah, now get your thing away from my thing!" House's eyes are fierce and he pushes at Wilson's hip and shoulder.

"No, House – I'm so sorry!" He leans on House to trap him, he wants him to stay and listen, and with his legs still hooked over Wilson's shoulders he is quite immobile. House looks at him surprised, then he pinches his lips into an angry line and starts to clench his thighs on either side of Wilson's neck. Wilson grabs his knees and makes a strangled noise, easing off him. House scrambles away and sits on the edge of their bed. Fuming he grabs a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, spreads his legs and cleans himself up. He turns to Wilson who is still kneeling motionless on rumpled sheets, dumbfounded by his own and House's reactions and throws the used wads of paper at him, hitting his brow and his ear. Wilson blinks. He doesn't know what just happened a few moments before. He feels sick to his stomach and paralyzed. House stares at him, scowling.

"Are you going to sit there all day and let me throw things at you?" Wilson looks down, exhaling a long held breath. He can hear the forgiveness in House's voice, his cue to act, defreeze, make it up. He finds House's eyes again.

"If that's what you want – yeah." He shifts and slowly knee-walks over to House, sighing with relief as House turns fully to him, his gaze serious, but the fierceness gone. Wilson reaches out and tenderly strokes his knuckles over House's soft cheek. He feels a stab in his chest and tears spring to his eyes. He loves House so much and it breaks his heart that it was him, Wilson, who just did something to hurt him. And House just forgives it, always does. He leans in and nuzzles House's cheek, their mouths finding each other and then they are kissing, Wilson caressing House's neck. He needs these physical reassurances with House. It's what he understands.

At 6:15 a.m. they both jump as the alarm goes off – the radio playing 'It's a Beautiful Morning'. Turning it off, Wilson smiles at the irony and watches House let himself fall back into the pillows, sprawling, stretching like a cat and making similar noises. He studies Wilson from under lowered lashes. Then he parts his legs, spreading them wide, letting Wilson have a good look at him. He lifts his eyebrows.

"You still owe me!" Wilson nods, smiling, moving between the long legs and bending down to kiss House there. House inhales sharply and presses his head back. He lets Wilson stroke the insides of his thighs, lets him kiss and trace his sensitive folds with his lips and lave his sweet spot where the folds meet his balls with his tongue. Wilson delicately pulls the folds apart with his fingers and slips his tongue inside, listening to House's sweet moans, his voice thin and thready, his hips writhing as if to attempt to escape. But Wilson doesn't let off, following House's movements, until he groans harshly, and begins to moan rhythmically in time with Wilson's thrusts. He moans with abandon as he pulls his legs further up, digging his heals into the mattress, meeting every in-stroke. Wilson shoves his hand under House's ass, breaking the thrusting and licking broadly up to the most sensitive spot, closing his lips around it and sucking tenderly. House tilts his hips into the sensation, holding still, gasping little moans into the silence. He feels like his whole lower body is bathed in warm water. Wilson puts two fingers between the folds and gently slips them in, feeling around and finding the right area to stroke. House keens and tips his hips back, beginning to meet Wilson's thrusts again. Wilson feels House's fingers touch his hair, then cup his head gently. He feels House's inner walls start to contract around his fingers and he increases the intensity of his tongue caresses. With his other hand he feels for House's deliberately neglected penis and strokes him once, twice, and presses his open mouth to the plum balls as House desperately keens, his legs shaking and he comes squeezing Wilson's fingers, his balls drawing up and after a second the first drops of his seed spill out of his penis. Wilson leaves his fingers inside House, feeling the incredible slickness, lightly kneading his balls, hearing House moan with his subsiding orgasm. He looks up into his face, watching the eyeballs roll behind closed lids, the open mouth and wet lips, the rosy tint to the cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat. Wilson pulls his fingers out a fraction and slides them in again, marveling at House's writhing body, his thighs falling open wider again. He feels himself desperately wanting to be inside House.

He crawls up his body and leans down to capture the slack mouth, sliding his nose along a cheek behind one ear and inhaling deeply. He loves House's smell, all his smells, and his tastes, he just can't get enough. He lowers himself carefully on top of House, burying his face in his neck and letting him feel his arousal, silently asking. He hears and feels House groan and shift, but in the next second the tin foil pack is being pressed to his cheek and a sleepy voice says,

"Have at it…but don't wake me. And I thought you had work today or some other important, manly stuff to bring home the money and fill our plates." Wilson gets up on his elbows and looks at the alarm clock. It is 6:43 and he should be in the shower by now, if he calculates in blow drying and at least one coffee. He doesn't want a rushed lay after all that had happened in the past hour. He takes the condom from House and places it on the nightstand. When he looks back at him House smirks slightly and closes his eyes.

"I'll save it. Maybe we can try tonight. Then I have something to look forward to all day." He pushes up on his hands and knees, leaning down to kiss House again, wanting to stay here with him in bed a little longer, then have breakfast with him and Lawrie, watching the two, and then go out to the park for a winter walk.

He gets up and takes a quick shower, skipping some of his morning routine and fixes himself a bowl of cereals and a cup of coffee. Before he leaves the loft smelling like baby powder and soap and coffee and possibly a little like sex he looks first into their bedroom to see House tangled in the sheets and fast asleep and then in the nursery to find Lawrie breathing deeply and loudly in oblivious sleep, his little arms and fists on either side of his face, eyes shut tight, still slightly puffy from crying and sleep, the long, dark lashes fanning out over one pale and one rosy cheek.

Wilson closes the apartment door softly on this domestic little heaven and begins to whistle after greeting their neighbor Nora with a pleasant smile, stepping into the elevator. What a beautiful morning.


	4. Beautiful Day

**Beautiful day - ****Following House**

When House wakes up for the second time that day it's eight o'clock and the loft is quiet. Wilson had left for work half an hour ago and House had lolled around in bed – it's his day off after all – and Lawrie is letting him sleep just a little longer, mercifully. He gets up to make coffee and looks into the nursery to see if Lawrie is still asleep. He finds him awake and talking to his mobile with the painted wooden animals hanging over the crib. He squawks and screeches and pulls at the yellow duck. When he notices House he smiles hugely and stretches out his small arms. House limps over, carefully lifts him out of the crib and kisses both his cheeks, smiling mildly.

"All better?" He changes Lawrie's diaper – last one they've got left – and dresses him before putting him in his high chair and giving him a piece of banana and his baby bottle with tea. He quickly throws on jeans and shirt, then fixes some oatmeal for Lawrie and a left-over bagel for himself. Lawrie seems in a much better mood after last night's teething pain and slight fever. He eats most of his porridge until he starts to protest and shake his head when House offers him another spoon full.

After checking his e-mails on his laptop while letting Lawrie leaf through his new book 'Baby Touch and Feel – Trucks', he decides he has postponed the trip to the small corner grocery store long enough. After brushing the six little teeth he dresses Lawrie, putting on his thick jacket, scarf and woolen cap which takes ten minutes because Lawrie keeps pulling everything off.

House puts him in the baby carrier, fastens the straps and puts on his sneakers and short winter coat. He looks at the heap of binkies, bottles and rubber nipples on the counter that Wilson had just cleaned the day before and picks one of them. Lawrie accepts the binky and plays with the chain that House fastens to his jacket. He grabs his cane, wallet and keys and leaves the loft.

When he steps out of the elevator he runs into Nora, one of their neighbors. She is really gorgeous and he and Wilson had hit on her when they'd moved into the building, before, well, shortly before _they_ happened. If it hadn't been for her and if there hadn't been that fake proposal, their little family probably wouldn't exist.

"Hey boys! Hi Lawrie, how's it going, cutie? Ooh, love the cap, is that a truck on it?" Lawrie smiles at her around his binky, making one of his pleased noises. House rolls his eyes a little at the obtrusive small-talk but then smiles close-mouthed, widening his eyes and answering for Lawrie, playing the polite game.

"Monster truck!" Nora smiles at him. She long since had forgiven them for being 'mendacious dirtbags' to her. Now they actually were the cute gay couple with an even cuter baby boy, living next door, she'd seen in them when they moved here. He can see her thinking exactly that, shivering.

"Oh, before I forget; I'm having some friends from university over on Saturday afternoon, if you're not busy you two could come with Lawrie." House cringes inwardly. That was a little too much neighborly contact and niceness. She always tried to invite them, introduce them to her friends. But he does not have any intention of playing the bearded lady at the fair. Everyone would be secretly or openly staring at him, asking dumb questions and fawning over Lawrie. He puffs his cheeks looking for a polite decline.

"You know, I can't really say; he's teething and it's a little unpredictable when he'll have another bout. And I might have to work if something comes up. Sorry." He looks apologetically at her. Nora smiles, nodding sympathetically.

"Of course, no problem. But they're great people. I wouldn't have asked otherwise, Greg." She looks at him almost pleadingly. House squirms uncomfortably at her insistence.

"I'll talk to Wilson and we'll think about it. See ya!" He looks down at Lawrie strapped to his waist, righting his cap.

"O.k., great! And my babysitting offer still stands, just call! Bye Lawrie! Say hi to James for me." She rushes to the closing elevator doors, beaming and waving. House exhales a long breath. No way are they going. He grips his cane and limps out the front doors. Lawrie in the carrier adds to the weight his cane arm has to bear and he's only used it a few times for short distances. It is easier to maneuver in small spaces and it is pretty warm, Lawrie is like a stove. And he always enjoys being close to House, he is much calmer. Also, fortunately, most people refrain from touching him all the time, because they would have to reach into House's personal space. The only real exception to that rule is old Mrs. Hyman. She always seems to hang around the corner store when House needs to buy bagels or diapers, and today is no different. She gives a delighted little shout and shuffles over to House to reach up and touch Lawrie's rosy cheeks. Lawrie's eyelids flutter and then his eyes go wide and frightened, a small crease forming between his eyebrows and a distressed whimper sounds from behind his binky. He looks back up at his dad who cradles his head, reassuring him that everything is within normal range.

"He is such a good and adorable little boy, Dr. House. Mazel Tov! I happen to have a little something for him here with me." She always seems to have, House thinks, sighing. He diagnosed her with diabetes a year ago. Since then she acted like she was deeply in his debt. Unfortunately, she did not seem to take her illness quite so seriously and quit the candy or the liqueur. She always smelled a little sugary with a hint of cherry blossoms. She produced a Big Cherry from her bag and held it in front of Lawrie. He looked at her, frowning, then he suddenly comprehends that he's given something and stretches out his hand, smiling, losing the binky in the process. He grabs the little packet and makes his pleased sound.

"There you go, boytshikl." House smiles and thanks her in Lawrie's name, planning to hide the thing as soon as possible, so Lawrie won't miss it and make a scene.

When he steps out of the store, diapers in hand his cell phone plays 'Mmbop'. He fumbles with it. On the other end Foreman tells him they have a new case and that it would be better if he came in. House completes the call and looks at his baby son. Lawrie looks back at him, a tad pouty, eyes big, as if he senses that he's not going to get his dad's full attention for the next few hours. It always begins with this little box that plays music when one of his daddies has to leave.

"Sorry." He strokes Lawrie's cheek tenderly. Then he picks up the diapers, takes his cane and heads home to get his and Lawrie's things. He has to find someone to look after Lawrie while he's working on the new case. He realizes he's a bit happy, too, that Foreman called. He's actually glad not to sit at home any more doing remote diagnoses. He wants to direct again, be there, be in the middle of it. He wants to throw ideas around, bounce them off his fellow's heads, he wants to argue, to snark and make them look like idiots. He enjoys being in his element again.

He decides not to bother with calling a babysitter, it just costs money, or it means talking to Nora, and he's counting on Wilson to help him or on his team to multitask anyway. So plan A is to drop Lawrie at Wilson's office and plan B, less convenient, to get his team to diagnose and babysit at the same time. It's something he's done for the last couple of months, why shouldn't they manage?

When he stands in front of Wilson's office he takes Lawrie out of the stroller and barges in.

"Your son needs you." Two pairs of big, blue Houseian eyes look at Wilson who sits behind his desk opposite a patient, frozen in mid-sentence. Lawrie smiles at him with all his six teeth, squeaking at the sight of his 'Daddy Cool', as House calls him occasionally since Wilson had danced to it with Lawrie on his arm. Wilson gets up and apologizes to his patient.

"Will you excuse me for a moment, please? Two minutes." He crowds House out of his office and closes the door.

"Is something wrong? Hey there, sweetie." He kisses Lawrie, touching his brow in the process, worried. "Is he sick?"

"He's fine. Still teething. I need you to take care of him for a few hours. Got a new case." House looks intently at him. Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling harshly.

"House. I have appointments until almost noon and a staff meeting until at least one. I can't just cancel. Why didn't you ask Nora? Her number is on the fridge and she said we could call her at short notice." He strokes Lawrie's cheek apologetically, nodding a little as Lawrie talks to him in baby newspeak, possibly telling him about his day.

"Yeah, I don't trust her, she hit on us! I have trust issues, you said it yourself… What do you want me to do, leave him with one of the nurses? Doesn't Oncology have a day care? Or we could drop him off in Sm_å_land – ."

"Don't even try to blackmail me!" Long suffering sigh, pinched lips, hands on hips. Yes, he's folding!

"I have time after the meeting, that's in two hours. We go to lunch and if your case turns out to take more time I'll take him home with me to nap. I can do paperwork at home. But next time you call Nora! She lives in the same building and she wants to be our emergency-nanny – and you agreed to this! Aaaand we'll talk to the guys at day care, maybe they'll agree to take Lawrie in at any time." He kisses Lawrie again and turns to his office. "Now, you have four employees, use _them_ as babysitters!"

House sighs and looks at his son who is chewing on his finger, drooling over it and looking at him expectantly. That didn't go too well, and he still has two hours to cover. The team it is, then. He sucks his teeth, then winks at Lawrie and puts him into theEasywalker.

He pushes open the door to the conference room with the stroller until Thirteen gets up to help. Foreman, Chase and Taub look up from reading the case file.

"Sorry, you had to start without me", he announces, "I have this little _thing_ I'm engaged in on the side. And this other, bigger thing I'm engaged_ to_ who won't cooperate." Everyone looks at him surprised.

"Is he going to sit in on the differential?" Taub asks in this soft, slightly ironic voice, inclining his head in the direction of the stroller.

"Yes. Yes, he is. Good to start early. He's taking Chinese classes as well. I couldn't be more proud." He takes off Lawrie's small jacket and soft woolen cap. Chase has gotten up to greet them and House takes the opportunity and hands him Lawrie.

"Say 'hi' to our kind ex-midwife and nanny for the day – Chase."

When Chase sits down with Lawrie on his lap Thirteen and Foreman lean over the table to have a closer look at the pink CBGB baby t-shirt, smiling at Lawrie who looks around with big eyes, his head turning with the little, unsteady, wobbly movements of toddlers still not used to the weight of their – in proportion – big heads.

"Hey there, little House, you have grown so much since our last differential together! House, he really takes after you, drooling all over the case files." Thirteen gets a beaming, six-toothed smile with a long thread of said drool slowly descending from Lawrie's mouth to the table for her comment.

"He's teething. What do you have on the case so far?"

While the team fills him in House puts Lawrie on his baby blanket on the ground and gives him his stuffed animals Toe and Tarantula. He also gets the model of the human brain from the shelf and Ball-y to play with. Lawrie is capable of playing on his own, at least for a while.

After Brain-y and Ball-y have been inspected, drooled on and talked at, Lawrie sets out to discover the room and, unfortunately, bangs his head on one of the shelves, exclaiming that with a piercing cry and lots of tears. He's bawling in his daddy's arms, House cradling his head and looking anxiously over to Wilson's office, willing Lawrie to stop.

After this little incident Chase gets to hold Lawrie on his lap again. They look at his book 'I See a Cow' together, Chase pulls faces for him and they play toss the pencil until people refuse to pick the damn thing off the floor. He tries to prevent Lawrie from completely drenching the case file with drool and from pulling Thirteen's hair. When Lawrie notices Taub sitting next to him he is immediately fascinated by him, studying him, smiling, hiding his face behind chubby hands, squeaking and screeching high-pitched in delight. He seems to be truly in love with Taub who keeps talking about the case, but distractedly glimpses at Lawrie and can't help but be flattered, his mouth twitching in a tiny smile.

Lawrence is happy, until he seems to get impatient with all the strangers around him and even Chase isn't enough. He wants his daddy. Mewling pitifully and looking at his dad he makes grabbing gestures, demanding to be picked up. House rolls his eyes but limps over to swoop Lawrie up, hold him high over his head, let him descend to his face and pretend to bite his neck with a snarl. Lawrie cackles in delight and looks in awe at his dad. He stretches out his small arms and touches House's face. House scowls at him but kisses his brow and puts him on his hip. Until House sends his team off for tests Lawrie gets to stay on his arm, trying to grab the black marker and repeating monosyllabic words like "bah", assumingly imitating his father.

When House is alone in the conference room he takes out the jar with parsnip mash that Wilson made, the plastic spoon and a mull cloth. It is past Lawrie's lunch time and he will be getting tired soon. Lawrie, sitting on his baby blanket, starts to rock excitedly and makes urgent humming noises that gradually turn into sobs when the food preparing takes way too long. House picks him up, puts him on his lap and announces,

"Open the hangar – here comes the plaaaaane."

Lawrie immediately stops sobbing, opening his little mouth wide as the first spoon full comes flying and makes pleased sounds at his dad, smiling through the pulpy mass.

Sometimes he can't believe Lawrie is almost eight months old now. He can sit on his own, discovers the world around him by crawling and his favorite dishes are mashed parsnip and blueberry and banana pulp. He's really friendly to almost everyone and smiles and laughs a lot. Must be Wilson's influence. Although his mom told him that he'd been a very friendly and happy baby as well when she visited for Christmas. She'd made him two albums with baby and childhood photos and gave him his dad's old Super 8 projector and the box with films. She had insisted that he keep them.

"It's not that I was going to sit there at home and watch them all by myself. We'll watch them together some time when I visit, and you can show them to James and Lawrie. I think James would love that!" He hasn't watched them since and he and Wilson almost had a fight over that. Wilson thought it was cute to watch young House and fuss over him. But House didn't want to watch himself or his dad. He didn't want the memories, didn't know what they would possibly trigger. And he didn't want to think about how he's probably going to screw up his own son.

He watches Lawrie eat his parsnip, his little arms fawning, little fingers pointing at the jar with his meal, repeating "mum-mum", his pre-word for everything food. He smirks at Lawrie's enthusiasm, at least _he_ is a fan of Wilson's cooking.

When Wilson finally picks them up for lunch, Lawrie is getting tired and impatient, missing his nap. House has to carry him down to the cafeteria because he doesn't want to sit in his stroller or be on Wilson's arm, securing that with angry bawling. As sweet as it is that House is Lawrie's number one it can be slightly inconvenient at times. And Wilson's look of disappointment at his son's rejection is plain pitiable, even in House's eyes. Wilson gets them a table, leaving their things there and joins House and Lawrie in the line. Lawrie is on House's arm and when House places his order, he looks down and starts to play with House's shirt buttons. He latches onto one and makes sucking noises. House ignores it and just puts Lawrie on his other hip. Lawrie looks at his chest again and suddenly puts his hand inside House's shirt, pinching the skin lightly, smacking his lips. An amused frown on his face, House carefully untangles the little hand. The following, piercing cry and desperate sobs let the whole cafeteria freeze in shock. House grimaces, throws Wilson a dirty look and strides over to their table. He retrieves Lawrie's spare baby bottle with tea, cradles him in his arm and gives him his bottle, holding him close to his chest to imitate nursing and to block out some light. Lawrie actually quiets, clutches a small fist into House's shirt and looks up at him with tired, teary eyes, suckling. As Wilson comes with their trays House snaps at him.

"You better make it a quick meal. He's not going to fall for this for too long. He's really tired and he just remembered good old breastfeeding-times." House grabs a few fries from his plate and munches them. Wilson looks at him, irritated, eyes narrowed, head inclined.

"I know he's tired. He's been up a lot last night, which you reminded me of with an elbow to the ribs every time you got up! It was your turn! I let you sleep when it's my turn!" Wilson digs into his fries, angrily stabbing them. House looks at him mischievous, chin lowered, eyes glinting.

"You didn't complain this morning when I let you poked me wi –"

"House! Don't say it! We've had our grand scene of the day with Lawrie. No need for another shocker." Wilson dabs his mouth with a napkin, then empties his glass of juice in one go.

"Looking forward to tonight? You wanna pick up where we stopped? Too bad, not gonna happen!" House leers at him. Wilson stands up to slip into his coat and leans in close to House's ear, his voice low and breathy, his lips brushing House's lobe.

"As if you were capable of withholding sex. I am looking forward to tonight – maybe we could shower together or I give you a massage, hm?" House shivers, his eyes averted. Wilson pecks him on the cheek and smiles at House's slight scowl. Then he feels someone tug at his tie. He picks Lawrie up from House's arms and lets him inspect his tie, so he is distracted from being moved.

In the lobby Wilson takes over the stroller but keeps Lawrie on his arm. House kisses Lawrie and says a quick goodbye, telling him he sees him in a few hours, regretting having to part with him. Lawrie blinks a few times and then tries to reach for House, making distressed noises that morph into mewling when Wilson walks in the direction of the entrance doors. As House turns around he finds himself face to face with his team, announcing that the tests were all negative. One kid gone, another four pop up.

"Come with Daddy!" They follow him into the elevators, riding Daddy's coattail.

When House gets home after 7, he finds Wilson feeding Lawrie in his high chair at the kitchen counter. Lawrie screeches in delight at his daddy's arrival, starting to babble.

"Solved the case!" House kisses Lawrie and then Wilson on the mouth, and joins them, pulling up one of the stools.

"That was fast. Is the patient alive?" Wilson quips, holding another spoon full of blueberry-banana pulp in front of Lawrie's mouth.

"Yes!" House glares at him. "Osteosarcoma in the humerus – she's still in surgery. But she'll be fine. It was small. How did the little prince behave?" He lets Lawrie grab his index finger, stroking his small hand with his thumb.

"He missed you. He cried on our way home, then he slept for two hours, then had some spelt cookies and tea, then we went shopping and made dinner. We ran into Nora in the elevator and she invited the three of us over on Saturday." Wilson looks at him expectantly. House writhes on his chair, making his 'damn' face.

"She seems to be omnipresent – she's lurking behind her door to jump out when she sees one of us!"

"I said we would think about it."

"Very clever. That's what I said, too. Politest way of saying no, without saying no. I'm not going!"

"We _are_ going! Let's see if you can come up with a cunning plan to avoid the thing." Lawrie yawns hugely and rubs his eyes with small fists. He whimpers and makes grabbing gestures at Wilson. It's Wilson's turn to tuck him in tonight.

When Lawrie is ready for bed, Wilson brings him into the living room for a lullaby and a goodnight kiss. It's a ritual – one song on guitar or piano before bed.

House plays Maurice Jarre's 'Lawrence of Arabia', Wilson watching with Lawrie on his arm, wrapping a piece of white mull around Lawrie's head, swaying a little, smiling.

Wilson tucks him in and Lawrie is out in under three minutes, exhausted from the day's events. Wilson watches him sleep for a few moments, taking in his steady breathing, the slight sucking noises from his mouth and the eyes shut in oblivious sleep.

When Wilson enters the living room, House is still tinkering on the keys, little playful, blues-y fragments. He comes up behind him and slings his arms around House, a warm palm coming to rest low on his belly, the other sliding inside his shirt, cupping his chest, kissing the side of his neck and inhaling him. House's breath hitches slightly and he leans into him, turning his head to let Wilson capture his lips and kiss him slowly and thoroughly. When he pulls back House asks him breathily,

"What about that massage you mentioned earlier to get into my pants?" House tips his head further back, letting Wilson caress his neck and then slide his hand down to his shirt buttons, slowly opening two more; all the while he is looking into House's eyes.

"Well, this is part of it. It's an erotic massage." He smirks and slides down next to House on the bench, facing away from the piano. He takes the lapels of House's shirt and carefully spreads them, pulling them down over his shoulders, letting his eyes rake over collarbones, the dip between his pectoral muscles, the fine dust of hair and the sweet tasting nipples. He gradually leans down, his mouth nearing skin, he can already smell it. He lets his open mouth ghost over House's chest, breathing hotly on him. House's deep, shaky breaths through his nose show Wilson the state of his arousal, his chest rising and falling more and more rapidly, and he's subtly arching into the hot and breathy caresses. When Wilson halts over an already pebbled nipple and finally latches onto it, all air escapes House's lungs in a rush, a soft, high-pitched sigh carried along by it. Wilson feels his penis swell in an amazing down rush of blood to his groin, making him hiss. He grips House's waist firmly, letting his open mouth drag over his skin up to his neck, groaning into it with a new wave of arousal. He needs House, needs him to be under him, needs him to take him inside, spread his long legs and wrap them around him, to be gently rocked by his thrusts, moaning sweetly. Wilson groans again, dick twitching deftly, wetly kissing House's neck.

"Oh god, bedroom!" He can hear House exhale a short laugh. He feels a hand on the side of his face, House's slender fingers bringing them face to face, tracing his high cheekbones and the soft bow of his lips, looking at him, eyes hooded, out of breath.

"Alright, let's fill a condom. Your incomplete massage has moved and appeased me." Wilson snorts. He carefully gets up, his arousal almost making it impossible to do anything but one thing.

"I promise to finish with a deep massage, without using my hands." House screws up his face in a grimace.

"Stop talking!"

When they reach the bedroom they're naked. When Wilson slides into House they groan with held back pleasure. When they come they cry out in relief. And when Lawrie starts to bawl ten minutes after, it's Wilson's turn to get up.

END – House lying in bed, satiated, smiling and naked, Wilson in his burgundy robe walking up and down in the nursery with Lawrie on his arm, trying to soothe him. Desmond Dekker & the Aces's 'Isrealites' playing, credits rolling. I hope nobody's fallen asleep. Thanks for reading.

**A/N**: Timeline: Summer 2009 Mayfield; fall/winter 2009 move into loft, they get together and Lawrence is conceived; summer 2010 birth; 8 month later, present, late winter 2011. I'll also pretend that "The Down Low" is set in early December 2009 so it fits the events in the story.

One complete line is stolen from 'Let Them Eat Cake' – 'Open the hangar, here comes the plane!'

'boytshikl' (pronounced 'chickle') is Yiddish and means sweet/darling young boy.

'Daddy Cool' is by Boney M. among others.

EasyWalkers are awesome Dutch strollers (maybe they could sponsor this story!)


	5. Sledding

**Sledding**

Snow falling all around them, thick flakes, catching on lashes, making them blink. Breath leaving their mouths in white, steamy clouds. All sound hushed by the soft blanket of white, except for the scrunching of the snow underfoot.

They reach the hill top, panting, turning the sled and looking down the gently sloping hillside that ends behind the old farmhouse. House sticks his spiked cane into the ankle-high snow, takes off the gloves and digs his hands into the pockets of his thick winter coat. Grinning, he produces a small metal flask in a leather etui, adorned with delicate tendrils engraved into the leather. Wilson rolls his eyes, and pinches his lips into a line.

"I knew your incentive to come up here would be something shrewd and twisted!"

"Stop whining and let me enjoy my accomplishment in peace! " House puts the little flask to his pursed lips and takes a good sip, head going back as wide as the cap and scarf let it. He swallows, looks back at Wilson, eyes wide, luxuriously and noisily exhaling. Then he holds out the flask to Wilson who declines, shaking his head, a sour expression in place.

"Your loss!" He turns to the sled where Lawrie quietly sits in the attachable baby-seat, only his little face showing among the snowsuit, cap, scarf, mittens and blanket he is snugly tucked into. Even a small sheepskin is laid out beneath him. He looks up at his parents, then down at the new binky chain Wilson's mom had given him when they arrived for a short weekend at Wilson's parent's house in Connecticut. He makes an 'indicating' sound, a little, high-pitched gurgle, and points to it with a mittened hand. House smiles at him. It is Lawrie's way of processing and getting used to new things that pop up in his life – like a new binky chain. He has shown it to his parents three times that day already. Obviously he remembers and likes it.

House bends down to his son and puts the little flask to his mouth. Behind him Wilson lets out a choking bark and he feels a gloved hand on his upper arm, clenching.

"House! Are you completely out of it?" he looks into House's face with shock-wide eyes, taking in the smirk. House snorts and gives Lawrie a tiny sip to taste it. Lawrie swallows. Then he immediately makes grabby hands and opens his mouth to exclaim a universal "mum-mum", for all things food and drink he wants.

"Relax! It's warm elderberry juice with honey, you moron! Your mom gave it to me. Want a sip now?" The amused and clearly derisive glint in House's eyes makes Wilson want to grab him and dunk his face in the snow.

"Don't scare me like that!" He is still breathing fast, air puffing out in angry little steam clouds.

"Oh, _I_ should be insulted that you really think I would do that!" House brings the bottle to Lawrie's mouth again and lets him drink carefully. Then he holds it out to Wilson again who takes it and drinks tentatively, glaring at House. Then he purses his lips, raising his eyebrows.

"Not bad. I wouldn't have thought th – " With a deft thud a massive snow ball hits him squarely in the chest, spraying his face with snow. He stands frozen in place, reflexively screws up his face, putting his lower lip over the upper. He hears House exhale a laugh and murmur to Lawrie, Lawrie making his little pleased sound. Wilson moves in slow-motion, thawing snow still clinging to his face and neck, putting down the flask, gathering two hands full of snow and moving towards House, pinning him with his stare. House, still gloating a little, looks from Wilson's eyes to his hands and back, realizing that Wilson is serious. He snorts, but starts to back away.

"This isn't fair! You have two good legs and can easily outrun me! So, back off! – No! Nononono! Noo! NOOOO! Argh! Get off! Swine!" Wilson has started to advance quickly on him, chuckling at House's first angry, then desperate protest, wrestling him down and shoving snow down his collar. House's hoarse shouts in his ears, he proceeds to hold his arms down, getting comfortable on top of House until he stops struggling. They are both panting, looking into each other's faces. This position is so familiar. They both close the distance at the same time, lips meeting, House's little moan making Wilson's hips buck. Wilson dives into House's mouth with fervor, their lips making wet sounds against each other. A tiny sob makes them break their kiss, House scrambling to his feet with difficulty, Wilson stumbling after him. Lawrie looks with big, scared eyes at them, mewling piteously, calming only when House picks him up from Wilson's arms, Wilson's soothing charms having no effect at that moment. House coos and kisses Lawrie's cheek, then glances at a crushed looking Wilson.

"It's just a phase. He loves you unconditionally. There will be phases when you are the Lawrie wrangler, and only you. But I'm his mommy, metaphorically speaking, and you just 'attacked' his beloved mommy. Pretty scary scenario." He reaches out and pulls Wilson near, so Lawrie can see them both. There are still two big tears on either cheek but Lawrie is calmly sucking on his binky, looking up at House. House leans in to Wilson and kisses him on the mouth, stroking his cheek. They both smirk a little when they hear Lawrie's pleased sound and he stretches out his arm to touch Wilson's face in conciliation, bumping Wilson's nose with his mitten. Wilson laughs lightly and kisses his son.

"Shall we start our little venture? It's getting dark anyway. Then we'll go inside, have a hot bath, and mommy and daddy maybe spending some alone time?" Wilson raises his eyebrows, sliding a gloved hand over House's butt.

"Shut up! Or you can sleep on the floor. When I hear you say the m-word ever again you can sleep on the floor for the rest of your pathetic life!" Wilson grins at House, his dimples making him look 15, the thick jacket with the fur hood and the moon boots he's wearing even more so. He unfastens the clasps for the railing that had kept Lawrie upright on the sled, detaches it and slings it over one shoulder. Then he adjusts the sheepskin so House can sit down with Lawrie between his legs, wrapped in the blanket, his cane at his side. When everyone is set, Wilson pushes them to the edge of the long, gentle slop. He and his brothers have done this often when they were little, sledding all day, red-cheeked, runny noses, giddy with excitement, hot chocolate afterwards, cold feet warming at the old fashioned kitchen stove their mother had kept when they bought the house.

He breathes "Ready?" into House's ear and pushes, running a few feet, jumping on, straddling the sled and slinging his arms around House and Lawrie. The sled begins to slide smoothly, slowly picking up speed. Wilson can feel his stomach flipping with the first little adrenalin rush and he grins and closes his eyes for a second, feeling light and safe. He squeezes House, loves being plastered to his back; he can feel him despite the fluffy layers of cloths between them. He looks down over House's shoulder at the top of Lawrie's cap. He feels like they were all one, one big clump, molded together, three beings in one. He laughs as the sled swishes over the steeper part of the slope and whoops along with House as the sled takes the small dip that Wilson knows so well, and jumps, making their stomachs flip. They slide up to the back door, a record, inertia keeping them going until the friction underneath becomes too much and they slide to a halt. It's always over too fast.

Wilson climbs off and crouches in front of Lawrie, laughing at Lawrie's wide eyes and waiting for his brain to catch up with what just happened. Lawrie looks up at House and then back at Wilson, taking in his parent's smiling faces. Eventually he makes his little pleased sound, showing his six teeth, gurgling.

They get inside, patt off the snow, peel out of their boots and jackets and caps, smelling like fresh air and wet snow and wool, cheeks red, noses running and giddy with joy.


	6. Fluke

**Fluke**

House wakes up as the bed dips, hearing and feeling Wilson struggle with the covers and sliding under them. He scoots over to House's side, pressing his naked body to his back, slinging an arm around him and cupping his genitals, as is his annoying custom, grunting into his ear to announce that he's finally found a comfortable position.

Wilson has been up a little longer to finish a game of chess with his dad, Aaron, something the two of them used to do when Wilson still lived here and that they picked up at every opportunity when Wilson visited. House had wanted to catch up on some sleep, going to bed early. They had been driving for most of the day up from Princeton, the snow slowing them down. And House had been up since 5 a.m. that morning, Lawrie's new tooth not letting them sleep. Now he's sore and tired, even more so after the little sledding trip they took after they arrived, and he is in no mood to linger downstairs.

Wilson's mom Rebecca had actually made him a hot water bottle for the chilly, seldom used second bedroom and a glass of hot milk as a nightcap, which seems to be equal with adopting House as her child. And she had offered to let House and Wilson sleep in and take care of Lawrie in the morning, which House was actually grateful for. She loves and adores her little grandson and obligingly and all too readily serves the little prince hand and foot. One bat of those sweet, big blue eyes and she is piling food and toys at his feet, or picking him up to be carried around. When they are back in Princeton, Lawrie will be a delight, used to all the convenience and the promptness with which his every wish is fulfilled. House isn't looking forward to the battle of wills when Lawrie misses being spoiled rotten.

Wilson presses his nose into House's hair breathing in noisily with an apparently slightly stuffy nose. An undisturbed night is surely out of the question now. It's either scare Wilson off with something really nasty, comment or deed, or get over with it as quickly as possible. Wilson is already starting to press his pelvis into House's back, almost indiscernible, his hand kneading House down there, slowly and gradually firming his grip. He sighs and opens his mouth slightly to nuzzle the hair at House's nape, almost imperceptible.

He is sneaking his way into sex! Pretending to be asleep, creating a situation in which every accidental move brushes something, so no one is able to tell if he does it intentionally or not. Accidentally letting his hands drop near or in the right places and linger. If there is no response, he pretends to shift or readjust in his half-awake state, creates enough friction so sex organs are reacting involuntarily and there has to be done something about it. Not that he could just wake House up and ask him! He has to be sneaky about it.

But House has to admit, it is kind of a turn on, this slow, warm, sleepy caressing and fumbling, goose bumps rising on his skin.

House makes a tiny, sleepy sound in his throat and presses into Wilson's hand, then arches his back, feeling Wilson's pubic hair brush his ass, making another tiny, distressed sound. That's what sets Wilson off. He exhales shakily into House's nape, pressing fully against his back. His hard penis is nudging the inside of House's thighs, brushing his balls and dipping between his folds, already seeking entrance. House releases a harsh breath, tipping his hips back further, hearing Wilson pant near his ear, feeling him swallow, making small digging motions with his pelvis, sliding the tip of his penis over the swollen, moist folds, making House lift one thigh slightly, moaning in time with the strokes. Wilson takes his thigh, carefully arranging House so he's lying on his back, the leg folded against his chest, Wilson still on his side, pelvis in the right position. They look at each other in the almost dark of the room, eyes glinting, bodies slowly moving, open mouths gasping, until Wilson dips his head and brings them together. They ghost over each other's o-shaped mouths, feeling soft, slick lips and hot breath, tongues licking at lips and teeth, dipping inside. House's breathing speeds up and becomes labored as Wilson presses into him, the tip of his penis slipping in just so. Wilson groans helplessly, the hot feeling incredible, the prospect of more dizzying.

Suddenly a hand brushes Wilson's cheek and then grips his chin almost painfully. His eyes snap open and he looks down into House's angrily gleaming ones.

"Where's your condom?" House pants, looking reproachfully at Wilson. "Want a repeat performance of the other night?" Wilson looks at him evenly. Then he lifts his right hand from behind House's head and holds it in front of his face, a little square tin foil packet glinting between his fingers. House narrows his eyes at Wilson's tiny triumphant smirk.

"Do you think it works its magic when you hold on to it really tight?" House snaps but snatches the packet from Wilson and tears it open with his teeth. He turns on his side, gently takes a hold of Wilson's penis and quickly and deftly rolls the condom down, making Wilson hiss with the sensation. Then he pulls a heavily breathing, eager Wilson on top of him and guides his hips between his spread thighs, looking into Wilson's eyes, their noses almost touching. When Wilson enters him in one sudden stroke House can't help a harsh sound from escaping him.

"Sorry!" Wilson whispers, panting, kissing House's open mouth tenderly, stroking his cheek with a trembling hand. He tentatively moves his hips, breathing heavily with the effort not to let go, all the while looking into House's face, taking in his tipped back head and open mouth, listening to his quiet sighs, waiting for his body to adjust and to lubricate. Gradually the slide gets easier and he feels House meet his thrusts, opening up for him. With every new thrust he seems to slide deeper, until he hits the right spot again and again, House's sweet, soft keening in his ears. They're both covered in a fine, sheen of sweat by then, slicking their bodies, delicate slapping of hot, moist, sticky skin coming together. House's eyes are closed, but Wilson can make out the movement of his eyeballs, his lids fluttering. His mouth almost slack, lips parted, showing the gorgeous bow of his upper lip and the tip of his tongue, working against his teeth. Wilson dips down and licks House's lips in time with his thrusts, his movements fluid and swift. House's mouth yields under his, opens, lets him lick inside, offering to taste him and to savor the silky softness. He's never been so turned on in his life by anyone but this man, his best friend, his lover, the birth-father of their sweet baby boy. He loves to watch House when they fuck, loves to listen, to smell, to feel. He buries his nose in House's neck, breathing in his scent, hissing with new arousal as House's essence speaks to his, telling him exactly what to do to him.

They both groan in unison as Wilson picks up speed, House spreading his legs wide, grabbing Wilson's ass, feeling him snap his hips, muscles flexing under his hands, feeling him hit deep inside, deft, sure thrusts, again and again. Until the warm flame inside him suddenly lights up white hot and he helplessly keens and writhes as his inner muscles contract in fast succession and almost violently around the penis inside him, pulling it in deeper, shock waves of dizzying pleasure running through him, taking Wilson with him. He hears Wilson's surprised, breathless, high-pitched moans, feels him holding onto him for dear life, all his muscles working to press his hips into House, press his penis against the cervix deep inside him, holding there, pumping millions of little spermatozoa into the condom.

Wilson lets his full weight sink down on House, slinging his arms around him, squeezing him, kissing and sniffing the dip between his chest muscles, groaning in contentment. He ghosts his lips over smooth skin and stubble to House's lips, kissing them softly. Then he looks into sleepy blue eyes, a slow smile twitching on his lips, mirroring House's, his hands cradling the beloved face, thumbs running over the perfect bow of lips, tenderly dabbing at the fuller, pouty lower lip and leaning down to bite at it playfully. With a parting kiss he carefully gets unstuck from House's belly and reaches between his legs to hold onto the condom when he pulls out his softening penis. He slips off the condom knots it and holds it in front of House's face, smirking.

"The poor little guys slammed their heads up against a wall of hard rubber!" House looks at him in bewilderment, lips parted.

"Are you trying to gross me out?" Wilson exhales a laugh, letting the condom drop to the floor on his side of the bed, picking some tissues off the bedside table to wipe off House's belly.

"Haven't you seen 'Everything you always wanted to know about sex'?" Wilson scoots further down on House, settling between his legs, resting both hands on his lower belly and looking up at him.

"Yah, back in the 70s! And either your quote is severely distorted or just plain irrelevant, no one remembers it! – Oh god, I know! The guys in the tight, white full-body suits with the long tails on a mission to fertilize or die." He pauses, the smugness morphing into impatience. "Are you trying to tell me something with that?" House arches an eyebrow and glares down at Wilson who is stroking soothing circles into his skin.

"I wasn't going to but –." He exhales, presses a hand on House's belly and looks up into his narrowed eyes – full suspicion mode.

"Why don't we forget the condoms, House?" There is a tiny pause and a flutter of eye lashes before House answers.

"Pfff, you already seem to have forgotten all about them! Do you think I enjoy being the one who always has to remind you? If you like sex without latex so much – there two other orifices between us that –"

"And you don't enjoy it? I think your voluptuous moans give it away if I may say so."

"You may not! Get a vasectomy then. Very common, not a big deal. And much less risky and messy than me getting a tubal ligation." House has risen on his elbows, his breathing rapid and shallow. Wilson knows that House feels trapped, knows that he knows what Wilson's going to ask of him. His eyes are wide, brow furrowed, daring him not to speak.

"No, that's not what I meant by forgetting the condoms. I – I want another baby! With you." Wilson watches House let himself fall back heavily into the pillows, his hands pressing into his eye sockets, rubbing, a harsh exhale carrying a bitter laugh. Exactly what he'd expected and dreaded. Apparently it is what they both had expected. Wilson kneels and puts his hands on either side of House's waist, leaning over him. He takes one of House's wrists in his hand and pulls it away from his eye. House lets both arms drop, his head lolling to one side. Wilson leans closer and that's when he sees the moist shine at the corners of House's eyes. He feels a sharp stab in his chest at seeing House so vulnerable. He cups House's face in both hands and kisses him tenderly on the lips and both cheeks.

"What do you want me to say?" House whispers, his voice thick, eyes shining wetly.

"I wish you'd say yes. I know this is a lot to ask, but –"

"No kidding. I think hormones have addled your brain, all bad memories lost to disintegration! I'm so jealous!"

"Maybe. But maybe there are so many good memories that they easily outweigh the others. This isn't something I came up with just now. I've been thinking about telling you since before Lawrie's birth.

"Before you got pregnant I had never even considered having a family. And never in my wildest dreams would I have seen us as that family. Turns out that you are an amazing dad! I watch you with Lawrie and I know we're gonna be fine, I know it's all good. I have this weird confidence that everything will work out o.k. With you there, I'm not afraid of any challenge." He smiles at House, studying his face, seeing the uncertainty and disbelieve there.

"When you got pregnant we both were terrified, everything still so new, and it never occurred to us that it was even possible to begin with. We had some tough decisions to make, you more so than I. I know it wasn't easy. But I never had the feeling that we wouldn't manage. I was so proud, still am. And this time would be different – it would be our choice." He brushes his thumbs over House's cheekbones looking at the lowered eye lashes fanning out, House's eyes unfocused, seeing something beyond the foot of the bed. Wilson slides one hand behind House's head, cradling it, the fingertips of the other lightly stroking his brow and temple.

"You've handled it all so well. You are amazing. You and Lawrie are my life, and I don't want to think about what I'd do if anything ever happened to either of you. I wouldn't want to change a thing and I would do it all over again, including the part where I got you pregnant. And not only because you were incredibly sexy with that baby belly!" He looks sheepishly up into House's eyes that are back on his, a little frown forming between his eyebrows.

"You don't have to say anything now. Or ever. And of course we don't have to start tonight, and if you don't want to, not ever. I just want you to know that I would be up for another kid at some point. Changing diapers, teething, tantrums and everything. Oh, and also weird cravings and mood swings during pregnancy. I promise to slake them and endure them, respectively." He smiles down at House's scowl.

"And what if I said no right now?" House's voice is soft but there is a defiant undertone to it.

"Then I'll accept that. I said I wouldn't want to change a thing. It was true. You can't go wrong here, House, I will not disappear when you say no!" House eyes him warily, taking in his expectant look, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open, shallow breathing.

"Sure!" He relaxes back into the pillows, exhaling long and slow.

"'Sure' you want another baby, or 'sure' I won't disappear?" Wilson's dumbfounded expression with a tint of hope is heartrending.

"Sure, you won't take no for a no! I know you! You won't stop nagging me about this, I will have to endure your schmoopy comments about babies and your puppy-dog eyes every time we pass a pregnant woman – which will be regularly because we work in a hospital!" House shivers. He gestures for the thick feather bed. Wilson twists and pulls them over them both, lying fully on House again, their naked bodies rubbing together. Then he smirks.

"Yeah, maybe a little. But I'm not having a mid-life-crisis and you won't hear of it again should you say no!"

"Why are you so cheery? I'm saying no and you're smug. Are you making some kind of point? Is this some evil plan at which twisted end I give my consent anyway? Are you screwing with me?" Wilson laughs.

"Why don't you believe me?" House makes a frustrated sound and shakes his head with a quick jerk.

"Because that's what you do! You lecture and nag me until you've manipulated me into giving in!" His caustic tone is almost a comfort for Wilson and a thought comes to him. He narrows his eyes at House.

"Wait a minute! You want me to nag you! You want me to con you into saying yes!" Wilson chuckles with mirth at his new theory. "House, it really would be so much simpler if you just said yes!" He grins wickedly, exhaling a laugh and presses his pelvis down into House's. House let's his head fall back, rolling his eyes. Then the far away and slightly scared look is back in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned down. Wilson feels his own mirth subside. He leans forward and brushes their noses together tenderly.

"You also know that I can take a no –"

"I already am pregnant!" Wilson pulls back and stares in shock at the side of House's turned away face, taking in his worried look, the shallow breaths betraying his calmness. House looks up at him without turning his head.

"Happy?" There is the tiniest challenge in it. Wilson releases the breath he's been holding.

"How long?" House puts a hand on his brow, rubbing, his voice tired and throaty.

"About three weeks. Took a test yesterday." Wilson carefully slides off House, lying on his side, his hand slipping beneath the covers, coming to rest on House's lower belly. A small smile flashes over his face. But then he looks at House staring at the ceiling, gnawing his lower lip.

"Did you plan on telling me? I mean, you didn't say anything. You even pretended we still need a condom!" Wilson's hurt, confused tone tugs at House's heart.

"I hadn't decided on that. And there hasn't been much time to talk in the last 36 hours."

"Three weeks. This means you were still weaning at that time!"

"Seems we should have started a week earlier with the condoms. Or the interruptus. Either way, it's done now." Wilson sighs, rolling on his back.

"Do you –" He swallows thickly around the lump of fear and premature grief in his throat. "Are you going to terminate?" House's head whips in his direction, a quick intake of breath, fierce blue eyes boring into his, measuring his intentions. Then he lets off, releasing a sad laugh disguised as a harsh exhale, his head turning back towards the ceiling.

"Wilson… I knew you'd be like that!"

"What?! This is a question I have the right to ask! And after our earlier conversation I'm pretty sure I already know the answer! And the fact that you probably didn't even want to tell me actually tells me the answer!" Wilson has propped himself up on his elbow and switched on the bedside lamp, breathing fast, eyes inquiring. House slowly rises, sitting up, turning to Wilson, his eyes gone wide in disbelief and blazing with anger.

"What are you trying to say, huh? That I was gonna hide this from you and get a backdoor abortion? Screw you!"

"NO! House! I know you're scared! And I know this seems to be the same mess we've already been through! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have implied that! I just don't understand why you didn't tell me! And pretended everything was alright!" Wilson has put a hand on House's shoulder blade when he'd tried to scramble off the bed. He exhales shakily, running his fingers up to House's neck.

"I meant what I said earlier, all of it. And if you decide to… if you decide to terminate, I'll still be here! But you have to trust me. You used to trust me!" He looks pleadingly at the side of House's face. House screws his eyes shut, then re-opens them and looks straight into Wilson's eyes.

"I don't want to terminate."

That's when Wilson clenches a hand over his chest, the stab in his chest making it difficult to breath, making him dizzy. He can literally feel his heart flutter. He can hear House say his name, telling him in his doctor voice to take deep breaths, feels his hand on his neck, his fingers taking his pulse. He feels his eyelids being lifted and a penlight being flashed to check his pupils. Then he is pressed flat on his back and House's head is on his chest, presumably listening to his heart and respirations. He feels save, somehow and cared for, his senses returning. House. House is pregnant. His baby is growing inside him. Lawrie's little sister or brother. He feels his face stretch in a broad, goofy smile. They are going to be parents again.

His hands feel for the head lying on his chest, startling House. He lifts his head frowning at Wilson's smiling face.

"Are you giddy? And I don't mean in the being jolly sense, which I can see you are!" He studies Wilson's face, then bringing his hand to his neck again, feeling his pulse.

"I'm fine, House. I feel o.k. now. I was just a bit overwhelmed."

"You had a panic attack! Most likely. We will know more when we visited the hospital to run an EKG and an Echo. I'll drive you." House is about to climb out of bed.

"What? You-you-you think I had a heart attack? That's ridiculous! I eat healthy! And I actually go to annual check ups!" Wilson spreads his hands, looking at House with big eyes. House snorts.

"Yah, no exercise, lots of stress – especially in the last 8 months – they can miss things during those exams and you don't eat half as healthy as you think! Come on, we'll take the scenic route."

When they return from the small and very poorly equipped hospital it's three in the morning. The streets had been mostly clear. They were lucky the young doctor in the ER actually knew who the infamous Dr. House is, making sure they got a quick run-through. Rebecca and Aaron both have waited up on them, relieved that their son did not have a heart attack. They all go to sleep eventually, Wilson spooning House, his hands never leaving House's belly.

When Wilson wakes up around eight, House's side of the bed is already empty. He takes a quick look out the window. It has stopped snowing completely and the sun threatens to break through. He washes up a little, puts on some cloths and shuffles down into the kitchen. In the hallway he can already hear Lawrie's voice babbling away, testing his vocal cords and trying out syllables. He smells coffee and fresh corn bread. The kitchen welcomes him with a high-pitched and delighted squeak from his son, a kiss on the cheek from his mother and a shy kiss on the mouth from his lover. He stands behind House's chair, looking over his shoulder, reading the headlines of the Boston Globe, leaning down to him, smiling at him conspiringly. House is wearing his reading glasses and looks at him over their rim. He sucks in a breath when Wilson slides a hand under his shirt to stroke his belly.

"You won't leave me alone from now on, will you?" House murmurs, voice lowered. Wilson kisses him again, speaking against his lips.

"Do I ever leave you alone?" House smirks at him.

"It's worse when I'm… expecting. You're like a squid." House whispers, taking off his glasses, glancing at Rebecca who is busy making fresh orange-juice.

"I know you like that! I swore to slake your cravings. And I'm not talking about the food part."

"James!" Wilson twitches, feeling caught. "You don't have to be so secretive. I know what's going on here!" She beams at them, wiping her hands on a towel and giving Lawrie back his Tarantula that had landed on the floor.

"How?" Two gaping mouths, two pairs of wide eyes, one brown, one blue look back at her.

"I knew the moment you walked through the door, Greg. Something was different. But of course I couldn't just ask! Now I'm pretty sure. James is all over you all the time. And there is this glow about you. Sorry darling! I didn't mean to be sneaky!" House looks at her in bewilderment, Wilson wondering what else she might have been sneaky about.

"So how long has it been?" Rebecca asks cheerily, setting up Wilson's breakfast.

"Three weeks. So it's all kind of still under the covers." Wilson smiles at his mom, blushing furiously, sitting down next to House.

"Oh, alright then. Do you want me to keep quiet about it?"

"No." House closes his eyes and squirms a little in his seat. "It's alright. Can we not make such a big deal out of this?" He gets up and picks up Lawrie from his high chair, who has been making grabby hands at him and just started to mewl because of the lack of response. He limps over to the counter with Lawrie on his hip and fills some warm tea from the thermos into Lawrie's baby bottle and returns to the table, sinking back into his chair. Lawrie contentedly suckles, lying in House's arm and looks up at his daddy, making low pleased sounds between gulps, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his little fist, pinching House's chest slightly. House smiles down at him. When he feels someone's hand on his shoulder he looks up at Rebecca, looking into her kind brown eyes, Wilson's eyes.

"You'll be fine." She gives his shoulder a squeeze, kisses her son on the cheek once more and leaves the kitchen to give them some room.

Wilson drinks a sip of his coffee and bites into a piece of corn bread. He silently smiles to himself.

"You know, sometimes it's a bit creepy how she does that. She's always known when something was up." He looks at House, studying his tiny smirk until it hit him. "You told her before I entered the kitchen, didn't you? House!"

"Amazing how she can keep a straight face! But still, she told _me_. She said she heard me in the bathroom earlier and then she put a mug of ginger tea in front of me and said it was for easing nausea." Wilson presses his lips together, nodding.

"My own mother and the love of my life conspiring and then pranking me! Expect payback, honey!" House snorts.

"Yeah, right!" He puts the baby bottle on the table and lifts Lawrie a bit higher on his chest. Lawrie breathes heavily with the effort of reaching for House's nose, and makes his pleased sound, smiling, when House puts his finger to his own nose, raising its tip and showing him what a piggy nose looks like.

He never sees it before the aerosol cream swooshes out of the can and piles on his nose, then in the V of his unbuttoned collar. The smiling lips that kiss his ear promise to have more tricks up their sleeve, saving them for their alone time.

END


End file.
